


Blue Christmas

by Koneko_Neko



Category: Project Blue Book (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Gen, No Beta, Parody, Spoilers, i don't know how to write poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28321707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koneko_Neko/pseuds/Koneko_Neko
Summary: This is a parody of of the poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” by Clement Clarke Moore. It's also my answer to the final episode. Spoilers!
Kudos: 2





	Blue Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> As stated in the summary, this is a parody of of the poem “A Visit from St. Nicholas” by Clement Clarke Moore (or Henry Livingston Jr., depending on who you ask). I don't own and didn't write the original poem, obviously. 
> 
> Some people might notice that the last words in each line often match those in the original poem. That was intentional, because I think the parody reads better that way. It skews a little close to plagiarism sometimes, sure, but doesn't cross the line. It's a much harder way to write a parody poem, I can tell you that...
> 
> A cookie to anyone who knows why I chose the name Trundle, which was not the name used in the draft that ended up on Discord.

Twas the night before Christmas, when above the Trundle house

Strange things were occurring, not due to a mouse.

The shockings were being studied by Blue Book with care,

In hopes that an answer would soon be found there.

The Trundles were nestled all safe in their beds,

While visions of flying saucers danced in their heads.

Allen with his journal, and Quinn with a night cap,

Had just settled who would be first to take a nap,

When from his cage the dog made such a clatter,

They jumped from their chairs to see what was the matter.

Away to the door Quinn flew like a flash,

Faster than Allen, outside before you could say “mustache.”

The moon cast a weak light on the new-fallen snow,

A sudden flash blinded the men on the ground below.

Blinking, what to their watering eyes should appear,

But a metal object, in the shape of a sphere.

The sphere darted around, silent and quick,

They knew in an instant this wasn't St. Nick.

More rapid than jets other spheres they came,

Weather balloons, or plovers, what could take the blame?

This was the sort of thing they had to be fix'in,

It was dangerous for people to think aliens weren't fiction.

The spheres started to move away, first one, then all,

The men ran for the car, but the engine did stall.

Unable to follow, they watched the spheres fly,

Further and further away in the starry night sky.

The men retreated to the house, not sure what to do,

Because the spheres were gone, along with the evidence, too.

And then, once inside, they heard noise on the roof,

Were the spheres back? Could they get their proof?

Allen grabbed his camera, ready this time around,

Not for the biggest legend of all to come with a bound.

St. Nicholas was there, in red from his head to his foot,

And on him were no traces of ashes or soot.

Doc and Captain took a giant step back,

This was a lot for their tired brains to unpack.

His laugh—how musical. He hugged them—how merry!

He loudly exclaimed “you're those boys from the military!”

His mouth was suddenly pulled down in a frown,

He said, to Quinn, “I can't watch you drown!”

A snap of fingers and Quinn gritted his teeth,

Pulled through a portal, round and green like a wreath.

He hit the ground hard and on his belly,

Saw the fancy sleigh, and was instantly jelly.

In the backseat someone sat, but not an elf,

Afraid, Quinn scrambled to right himself.

The creature twisted its large gray head,

Quinn heard in his mind: “you have nothing to dread.”

The alien spoke no more, just started his work,

Strange pricks to Quinn's neck, his head did jerk.

He wasn't told how or why he'd need those,

Before a snap, and through another portal he rose.

Quinn was in the house, moved faster than a missile,

Realizing he was abducted by Santa, how he did bristle.

They checked outside, no spheres or sleighs in sight,

But did they hear in the distance: “In time you'll understand, alright?”

BONUS ROUND!

Twas the night before Christmas, the mood was anything but merry,

Allen hid in his study, staring at his partner's obituary.

Mimi tried to comfort him, get him to come sit by the tree,

Sad and angry, Allen always told her to “leave me be!”

Allen had tried to find Quinn, he went to the men in black,

But even they couldn't help him get his partner back.

As midnight approached, Allen stood up with a sigh,

It was time for bed, another day without his Captain gone by.

Or so he thought, as he passed a tree lit all in white,

And noticed beneath the boughs the greatest sight.

Allen was right all along, his partner wasn't dead,

He was asleep under his tree, with a big red bow on top of his head!

Allen rushed to his partner and shook him awake,

Quinn sat up and grumbled “oh, I got such a headache.”

Attached to Quinn's chest there was a short note,

It read: “Next time, keep him on the boat.”

**Author's Note:**

> The bonus round was not inspired by another work. That poetic horror was all me!


End file.
